


frost & flame.

by houndsace



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: I love this pairing, M/M, anyway happy holidays have gays, its pretty gay guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houndsace/pseuds/houndsace
Summary: siegfried struggles with his humanity, and aglovale is there to ease the fire.
Relationships: Aglovale/Siegfried (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	frost & flame.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chosuiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chosuiri/gifts).



It’s always a struggle. He can never quite get a handle on it - the draconic blood in his veins sings with the need to be released, for its power to be shown and it makes his head throb with pain. It’s a common occurrence; something that happens every so often when he can’t find his way to bed, or if he can’t find an outlet for excess energy and his body fights itself, feels the shadow claw at the corner of his eye and tempt him.

He moves quickly, unsure of where he’s going. His body carries him, moves past doorways and he only vaguely remembers the fact he'd managed his way to Wales when traveling before the pain began seeping into his head, tries to move quicker and find himself somewhere that isn't the middle of a hallway, gives warning to someone that tries to stop him and finally finds himself in the bed of someone else - the scent, he recognizes as the King of Wales and he’ll have to hope that Aglovale doesn’t mind the sudden visitor, and if he’s being frank, he’s not quite sure how the guard let him pass so easily. 

He doesn’t dwell on it, instead, closes his eyes as he rubs at his temples, the cool metal of his gauntlets easing the pain just barely as he lays there.

It isn’t enough, no, but it feels better than the way his body overheats and he has the brief idea of taking his armor off, letting himself cool down, but he can’t find it in him to move from the plush bed and stays instead. He feels it ebb and flow, like a tide that makes him wonder if he’s really human at all. The scales beneath his armor begin to itch in a way that makes him growl, teeth grinding against each other as the itch becomes a burn and makes its way through his throat, as if he could actually breathe fire and curse those that try to come his way, body aching as he pushes clawed gauntlets into his shoulder. It happens in a way that clouds his senses, and he barely notices the way that someone enters the room.

“Siegfried?” It’s more inquisitive than anything else, and Aglovale watches him from the door, curious, cautious. It isn’t often the wandering dragon comes into his room with little fanfare - Siegfried usually announces his arrival whether it wants to be or not, and yet the man lays in his bed, unaware that he’s entered the room. 

“Siegfried.” More stern this time, eyes squinting just a bit as he moves to the bed, removing his gauntlets and gloves, as well as the pauldrons and chest pieces of his armor, leaving him in his tunic as moves towards the other man, careful when he gets on the bed as well. 

He’s more gentle with this than he can remember being with anything else - fingers gently taking Siegfried’s hands off, drawing away when the man growls like an animal, watches him carefully and lets his magic flow through his hands and to his fingers, concentrates it there and speaks softly, “It’s alright.” He’s speaking the way he would to a scared animal, but more so to a scared friend. He’s seen what the blood that courses through Siegfried is capable of, knows the struggle that the other man goes through while he lays there.

When the growling subsides, Aglovale moves again, slower this time and takes Siegfried’s hands into his own, and, carefully, pulls the other man up. He doesn’t know how well this will help the pain, but he’s careful in helping the man take off the outer layers of his armor, feeling the heat of his skin even through his magic and Aglovale slyly ups it, lets the cold pierce further and Siegfried’s body starts with a tense, before it relaxes beneath his bare fingers, running along his arm and carefully running across the scales, receiving another growl and Aglovale, still slow, removes his hands again.

“I’m trying to help you, Siegfried. Let me ease your pain. It’s just us here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.” Aglovale keeps his voice low, easy and careful the way he chooses his words to the man that can barely process much of anything right now, and when Siegfried eases, he lets his fingers return to the patch of scales on his arm, watching the muscles seize before relaxing.

The cold must bring back memories of when they fought - the way that his blizzards and his ice would entrap and encase and he wonders if it brings such unpleasant feeling, but Siegfried eventually stops growling, stops feeling that way it seems, by the way that he, ironically, melts into the cold of Aglovale’s touch.

Once the muscles relax enough, he gently moves the other to lay down, head in his lap and he hums softly, a tune that he’s lost the words to and continues this way, running cold fingers up Siegfried’s jawline, before settling at his temples. The cold seems to do wonders for the other man - he can feel the feverish skin turn cooler, and Siegfried’s brow stops its creasing, his breathing returning to an easier state and he wonders if the pain truly has subsided.

And in a way, it has. Siegfried isn’t sure if it’s the cold, or the tender way that he’s being handled. He didn’t expect this kind of kindness when he’d ended up in Aglovale’s room, let alone uninvited and unannounced, but once he fights back the memories of the cold cage, of the biting sort of cold that reminds him of the times that he truly couldn’t control himself, that he was a detriment to those he cared for and more, he feels himself relax, the ache of his body subsiding and the ache of his head especially leaving him.

Aglovale’s cold fingers leave him and he lets out a soft sigh, eye gazing up at the blond man’s and there’s a tenderness there that he didn’t expect to find. It was the kind that seemed reserved for family, a lover, and Siegfried isn’t sure that it is for someone like him. Someone so rough, so angry, there’s a part of him that wonders if Aglovale knows what he’s doing, showing him this kind of tenderness. In the end, all he does is watch the other with soft eyes, moves to gently place a hand on Aglovale’s cheek and hope that it conveys his thanks for now. Aglovale's still cold hand finds its way onto his, and Siegfried hums softly.

He finds his voice soon after, hoarse and tired, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"Showing up unannounced. I hadn't meant to."

"Hardly a thing to apologize for. The guards that saw you told me you seemed out of sorts. I only hope this helped."

"With the pain, it did. Thank you."

"Nothing calms the beast?"

Siegfried takes the words into consideration, lips pursed before a gentle shake of his head, which makes him realize he's still situated in the other man's lap. Aglovale doesn't move to get him off, and Siegfried doesn't move either. 

"It always wants blood. Destruction. Just as Fafnir himself did, his cries are always for blood." 

“And there is no way to calm him?” 

“He is calm now.” 

There’s a hum from the blond, and Siegfried returns it, inquisitive. Aglovale’s hair falls in a curtain around him and he watches as the other comes closer, almost as if he wants to tell him a secret. 

There is tension - something between them that Siegfried has never been able to pinpoint on his own and never something that he wanted to address, for fear of it slipping through their fingers and losing it. Instead, he watches as Aglovale lays the softest of kisses against his lips, upside down as it were, and Siegfried returns it after a moment of surprise, hand coming to gently take Aglovale’s again. 

He moves then, only so that he can properly face Aglovale, bare hands coming to cup the other man’s cheeks.

“You’re still so warm.” 

“I always will be.” He murmurs, mouth coming to find Aglovale’s again in another soft kiss, and he mutters against his lips this time, “But it seems you always find a way to cool me down.” 

“And yet somehow, your warmth comes through me.” 

Their kisses are heated, as if it’s something they’ve never done before but Siegfried can always remember the small, secretive kisses that he’s placed on Aglovale’s forehead before leaving in the dead of night, or the small pecks they’ve shared when they know no one is looking. His feelings for the King of Wales were confusing - something that mixes fear and fondness, and he knows the other feels the same way. He isn’t sure how long they can go without speaking about it, but he doesn’t mind the way things are now either. It was easier, he thinks, to continue on this way and not have to worry about the labels.

“Stay for the night.” 

He does.


End file.
